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North Texas. Political adult satire

PANTY ARCHIVE - OLDIES BUT GOODIES

Please note that this Diary is no longer being updated!

Sadly, this dairy is no longer being updated due to the untimely demise of the author, Marc Kingston. Marc suffered a most regretable mishap in late October 2004 whilst out rambling late at night in an isolated wood with a lady friend. His nude body was discovered by a man walking his pet Gerbil several days later with two electrodes attached to his groin, a large banana inserted into his rectum and a mango stuffed into his mouth. The subsequent inquest returned a verdict of death by Miss Adventure. Sadly, Miss Adventure has since vanished without trace. Mr Kingston left behind a wife, six children (two of whom were legitimate), a mistress and six packets of chocolate Hob Nobs.

If any plucky writers are brave enough to wish to revive this diary please contact us by clicking the 'Comments' button at the end of this article. We promise we will NOT forward your names to MI6. Well, unless you forget to include a cheque with your application.

Tony Blair's Private Diary

FRIDAY
19 March 2004 G'Dubya woke Cherry and me up at 4 in the morning. What is it
with that man? Doesn't he know anything about bloody time zones!? Cherry
was very good about it considering all he wanted was to ask if I received
the Biological warfare proof underpants he posted.

Breakfast was a disaster. First Consuela burned my muffins (AGAIN!)
and then Katey told us she was going to a 'Rave' tomorrow in Wapping.
Told us - not asked! "Not in THAT dress", you're not, Cherrie
said. "Bloody right she's not!" I added. "I'm not having
my 14 year old daughter showing off her pussy to a bunch of randy little
oiks! Of course I forbade it, but the little minx gave me two fingers
and stalked out! Then Nicky, who I thought had more sense, defended
Euan's latest outrage which thankfully the press haven't got wind of
yet. To cap it all baby Leo vomited into my cornflakes! Could you ask
for a better start to the day?

After that it got better and better. My meeting with the FrogKing ended
with him threatening to close the Channel Tunnel unless I let in more
asylum seekers. Plonker can't manage the one's he's got so there's no
way we're letting any more of the oily toerags in. Then 2Jags rang up
to complain that he'd not been invited to Her Majesty's private birthday
bash next July and asked why not - wasn't he good enough? After calming
him down I had to deal with a looney from the Beeb who asked me about
Doctor Crippin's death and didn't I think it was a bit suspicious that
he'd been found bollock naked in a wood with a bread knife and two pads
attached to his chest? The bugger had the cheek to suggest it was an
MI6 wet job which I'd sanctioned. I told him to sling his hook but I
know he'll go whinging off to his masters and that arse Paxton will
demand an interview. If only Jennifer were here to massage my back.
Come to think of it my front could do with some relief too! Still, gotta
be careful now that we're so low in the ratings...

Before I knew it it was 10 o clock and time for the Friday duel with
the Cabinet. Unfortunately I was nobbled by Sir Frank Willey who insisted
on going over the agenda for my summit with the FrogKing and Sourkraut
in Berlin next week.
If I've told him once, I've told him a hundred times we are NOT going
to pull our brave lads out of Iraq!
So I was in a bit of rush when I crossed over to No.11 and narrowly
missed catching my hand in that stupid new security barrier Scottie's
had installed. I know his game. The old sod doesn't want me dropping
in on him unexpectedly. N.B. Get Ashley to fix the bugs in his office
so I can listen to his calls again.
When I turned the corner I bumped into the Home Sec and something hot
and sticky hit me in the groin. I couldn't believe it! David Plonker
had spilt coffee all down the front of my trousers! I mean, I know the
slob is as thick as a brick, but he can still look where he's going
can't he? I was already 5 minutes late for the meeting and wasn't as
if I could just call Cherry on the dog and get her to bring a new pair
of strides over to No.11 was it? So I dived into his office and rushed
for the loo. He started in on me immediately and stopped in mid-sentence
when he caught sight of my pants "Ah, Tony... I'm glad you've popped
in. I wanted a quick word about - oh dear, it's a bit late for the toilet,
isn't it?"
"Up yours, David. Cabinet meeting. No time now."
With that I bolted into the loo. Then I swore again. Domestic Services
had introduced those awful paper towels in place of the nice fluffy
ones Cherry bought at Ikea. And there were only two in the dispenser!
Bugger and double bloody bugger!
"Hey, David, have you got a hair-dryer in here?"
"Yes, it's on the second shelf next to my haemorrhoid cream and
viagra."
"You sarcastic bastard - I'll get you for this!" And I will.
I'll have that oily little stoat of it's the last thing I do. N.B. Get
Ashley to send a memo to Sir Gerald telling him that from now on all
his pool cars will be Vauxhall Vectras. That'll show him who's Prime
Minister!
Anyway, I did the best I could. Those bloody paper towels left white
bits all down my left leg which, if anything, made the damp patch look
even worse than before! I would just have to make sure I didn't stand
up at the meeting.

"With all due respect, Prime Minister, we can't just send another
9,000 men and pull another 2000 Whippet missiles out of the hat because
your American drinking buddy says so!"
The bloody cheek of 2jags! I wasn't having some jumped up Transport
and General Workers Union Clerk saying that to me so I stood up and
gave Fat Johnnie a piece of my mind.
I regretted it almost immediately. The stain was clearly visible around
my crotch, and I saw Primula's evil eye home in on it with undisguised
glee. "I hope you're not going to commit premature capitulation,
Prime Minister?" she asked in that hoity-toity voice of hers.

After that things went from bad to worse. I sloped off early and went
to lunch with Peter. Then I played with baby Leo until Cherry got home
at 5. For once he didn't live up to his nickname of "Oral Bile"
and I managed to keep both of us clean. Cherry had an awful day in the
High Court and her hands were all over me the moment she got in. So
we locked Oral Bile in the toilet and went at it like ferrets on the
new split level hob. Ah well, I've had worse days!